Broken Constellations
by imogensrocket
Summary: After Adam's death Imogen would never be the same.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Degrassi, thankfully.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Okay, I'll admit it, I haven't watched the new episodes of Degrassi because I am sick of my favorites being shoved into the background for the same set of characters and the same stupid drama, so I don't really know how Imogen is being handled post-Adam, but knowing this show it probably hasn't been addressed. And if it is, it'll be a "I kissed Adam", Becky will be upset, and then that's it…

* * *

She lay there under the blankets, even though it was one of the few hot days that happen at the end of August. She curled the heavy comforter to her chin, trying to stay warm as her alarm went off beside her, its angry wail informing her that today was the day she'd been dreading since the week before, when Dallas had texted her.

She gasped, tears filling her eyes as she hid further into her blanket, her heart clenching as she remembered the four words that had killed her to read: _He didn't make it._

Trying desperately to erase the memory, she rolled on her back, still oblivious to the alarm's wailing, and stared at her ceiling, becoming mesmerized by the constellations she had made when she was younger. The messy clumps of stars, trying desperately to match those her dad had showed her when they when camping, when he'd tell her their stories.

There were stars that had fallen, ruining the messy constellation, only leaving behind their shadow and dried glue. The star lost in years of cleaning and moving furniture, never to be found, and never to be remembered unless you looked up and saw where it once was.

She felt the tears she'd tried to fight back roll down her cheeks, thinking about the loss of her stars, but knowing the real reason why she was crying.

The days following the crash, all she could do was cry. She cried over anger, over memories, over the news, over guilt. Everything she'd felt since Adam had crashed always came with sobs and a feeling like her heart was being suffocated.

She had barely slept, and when she did, her mind replayed memories, involved him in her dreams, plaguing her with torment until sleep became more of a punishment then an escape.

Closing her eyes, she reached her hand out and shut off her alarm clock, laying there in the silence, her mind blank, but she knew she needed to get ready. The thought of her putting on a simple black dress and going to a church to mourn and bury him made her stomach clench and her eyes swim with tears, but biting them back, she got up and forced herself to do what she had to do.

* * *

Arriving at the church, she noticed Drew looked as dead as she felt. She went to walk up to him and Bianca, but when he glanced at her with accusing eyes, she backed away.

He was still mad at her. Why wouldn't he be? This was her fault.

"_If you and him weren't in the van, none of this would have happened!"_

She sat in the back, taking the open seat beside Zig, whose face was contorted with anger.

The two former band mates didn't greet each other, nor did they talk before the priest came to talk about Adam, telling tales of how he was in a better place and how it was his time to come home. It wasn't until Zig reached out and took her hand that she realized she was crying angry tears again.

Not bothering to turn to him, she kept her eyes forward, feeling comfort in the gesture.

"This is bullshit," Zig spat in an angry whisper.

Imogen bit her lip, trying in vain to stop another batch of tears, gripping onto his hand as he continued, trying to keep herself from drowning in the pain of her own grief.

"Why did _he _have to die?"

* * *

The bomb fire was in full swing as she sat miserably on an Adirondack chair. This was exactly what Adam would have wanted. People laughing and having fun as they swapped stories about him and their summers, not mourning him and standing at a church, praying for his peace and comfort. But all she could do was sit there alone, feeling the hate and the misery claw at her.

There was so much that had made her angry, that she wasn't sure which was irrational and which was rational anymore.

The video his so-called "best friends" had made him with his pictures that he wouldn't have wanted, and then Eli parading Clare around, letting everyone know she was cancer free had upset her to the point where she had snapped at a group of people, causing Bianca to step in between her and bringing her away from the crowd to calm her down.

She felt the hatred for herself upon seeing Clare, the girl fated to die, healthy, while the boy who had done one stupid thing was buried. It wasn't fair, and she had hated Clare, seeing her there, and then felt sick when she realized that she wished Clare Edwards death.

She had sat there, alone, for hours. She knew she should have gone home, but her home felt lonelier than it ever did.

Her dad was forgetting things more often, and held little comfort for her, and she couldn't bare the weight of everything tonight. So she sat there, looking at everyone as the night went on.

She had noticed a few seats down, Becky was glaring at the video, and she wanted to go over there and be with her, but didn't dare. Not after what she did. How could she even comfort her, knowing what had happened with Adam?

Shuddering, she fingered the bracelet Adam had made for her, nearly yanking it off her wrist in the fear of Becky seeing it.

_"Here," he said, grabbing her wrist and trying a friendship bracelet around her wrist, a charm of a lizard flopping up and down as he clumsily tied the thread together._

_"What's the special occasion for such fine jewelry?" she asked him teasingly, looking down at the bracelet fondly._

"_What? A guy can't give his secret best friend a friendship bracelet?" He asked, tapping his nose. _

* * *

They created a campaign against texting and driving in his honor.

"It's what Adam would have wanted."

She snarls at the offensive poster, wanting to rip it down and tear it to pieces just as she imagined Adam would have done.

She can't even believe it as she turns away, running directly into one of the many people she had been avoiding: Becky Baker.

The girl's eyes look tired, and their natural cheery spark seems to be diminished as she looks at Imogen, trying to focus, and then she smiles – though it's a ghost of the smile it once had been.

"Imogen, hi," Becky says, trying to sound cheerful, but then her eye catches the poster and her mouth sets into a hard line.

Imogen sighs, adjusting the strap of her bag on her shoulder. "It's like they don't even know him…"

Becky's eyes fill with tears, and Imogen knows it's the wrong thing to say. She watches the girl square her shoulders, trying to smile. "It's promoting safety though."

Imogen nods, feeling the awkwardness between them suffocate her and she begins to leave.

"Imogen," Becky calls her, and Imogen pauses, turning to her. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved at the beginning of the summer." Becky lowers her eyes, and from behind her hair, Imogen can see her lip tremble and her heart clenches. "Maybe if I hadn't been like that none of this would have ever happened."

Imogen stands there, frozen as she watches the girl cry. She wants so badly to open her mouth, to tell her it was her fault for being in the van with Adam. For kissing him, and not even thinking of anything past her own desire, but she can't. She can't tell Becky Adam did that and shatter the memories she had of her boyfriend.

Imogen feels her stomach clench painfully, and she realizes she's crying, and begins to sprint towards the washroom.

She grips the sink tightly, looking at herself in the mirror.

_I kissed Adam Torres, _she thinks miserably. _I'm the reason he went out to the woods to win Becky back._

Her knees wobble violently, as she tries to keep her failed composure.

A sob claws at her throat and she chocks, trying hard not to be sick.

She should hate him. He kissed her back, and acted one way to her, but she couldn't hate him.

She closes her eyes, feeling the pressure on her heart and the tears cascading down her cheeks, and she remembers him and all they had, sobbing violently.

"I killed Adam," she admits to herself aloud, not even sure if anyone is around to hear her. "I killed him."

Not Becky, not anyone else. Her.

She had killed Adam Torres, her kissing him had caused a chain of events that made him want to win Becky back. She wanted to hate him but couldn't. She could never.

Her throat closed, and she shut her eyes, her mind thinking back to him handing her the flowers.

White daisies: white, the color that symbolized things like silence, funerals, death.

All the things that defined what they were.


End file.
